Two poems by Alwyn Gornall

BOMBAY DREAMS


With industry closing and skills eroding,
lost souls become re-training volunteers;
re-cast as 1–1–8 operators,
retail assistants and micro-chip pioneers.

Swap your overalls and steel capped safety boots
for Italian chinos and fashionable frills.
Swap hard labour and sweat producing toil
for customer care and inter-personal skills.

Become a call centre operator,
Information at your finger tips.
Experience isn’t necessary
When stored on micro-chips.

Become part of the new revolution,
new technology arriving every day;
hyper fast processors and touch-screen phones
and quick-fix jobs that can be thrown away.

Oh! Sorry,
we’ve now replaced you
with someone in Bombay!

WILD HORSES

Young love... delicate and fragile,
Like a spiders web.
Prone to be broken as easily
As a strand of gossamer thread.

Excitement and passion
Filling young ones’ dreams.
A kiss freezing time...
For an eternity, it seems.

Mature love... soaring like the wind
Powerful and free.
Beating in our hearts
Like the pounding of the sea.

As binding as an oath;
Held fast by the heart.
Two becoming one,
Wild horses cannot part.